


Catch Your Dreams

by torino10154



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Mystery, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154





	Catch Your Dreams

**Title:** Catch Your Dreams  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** ~8,065  
 **Content:** Rimming  
 **Prompt:** 82: Auror Potter stops at an inn and finds his sleep filled with erotic dream visions of sex with Severus Snape. Meanwhile the mysterious stranger in the next room dreams of sex with Potter.  
 **A/N:** Thank you to [](http://sdk.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sdk**](http://sdk.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=accioslash)[**accioslash**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=accioslash) for feedback and beta.

Written for [](http://snape_potter.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://snape_potter.dreamwidth.org/)**snape_potter** 's Snarry-a-Thon13.

 

Harry had always wanted to see Mould-on-the-Wold as it was where Dumbledore lived as a child, but he hadn't expected to finally get the opportunity in his official capacity as Head Auror. 

There had been strange sightings in town, talk of the living dead, though thankfully they were neither Inferi nor the zombies of bad Muggle cinema. No, witches and wizards were seeing their long-dead loved ones. 

So sure were the inhabitants of this fact, they'd requested none other than the famous Harry Potter take the case, and they nearly flooded the Ministry with owls. They seemed to think the hero of the war could Banish or scare the ghosts or apparitions back to where ever they'd come from.

Ron had only laughed and clapped him on the back. "Think of it as a couple days off. Surely it'll all be sorted in an afternoon. I'll see you Monday!"

Now that Harry arrived in the town, though, he wasn't so sure. There seemed to be a fog settled over the village, as if everything was out of focus. Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief but it was no better when he put them back on his face.

Pulling a slip of parchment from his pocket, Harry read, "Coat of Arms." He placed his wand flat on his palm and repeated the name, adding, "Point Me." His wand spun first clockwise then slowed and turned in the opposite direction before settling due North. Naturally there was no road or path but it gave him the general idea and Harry began walking up the street.

The shops were quiet which seemed unusual for a Saturday morning. The sound of a bell made him turn to his left and he watched as a wizened old man hurried away and around a corner. He made note of the shop, _Rambournes_ , and planned to come back around after he left his overnight bag at the hotel.

After wending his way up cobbled streets, Harry finally found himself in front of the small hotel. It wasn't much to speak of but no one would expect to find him in a place like this. His secretary had assured him it was clean and vermin-free if nothing else.

Harry stepped inside and pulled off his travelling cloak, throwing it over his arm, and approached the desk. There was an old-fashioned Muggle phone hanging on the wall beside the counter, the type he'd only seen in films, though he noticed no cord so perhaps it was only decorative.

A small bell sat on the countertop with a handwritten note which read, _Ring twice_. He looked left, right, and behind before smacking it with his palm twice. 

From behind a door at the far end of the corridor, an elderly woman emerged. 

"Keep your pants on," she said. "I'm coming." Harry nearly opened his mouth to tell her his pants were none of her concern but it was only his first day in the village and he didn't want to call attention to himself unnecessarily.

"I've got a room for the next two nights. The name's Potter," he said instead and she went behind the counter and flipped open a large leather book. She drew her finger down the page so slowly Harry thought he might fall asleep waiting for her to come to the end of the page. And then she turned the page and did the same thing again. 

Harry could see the date was three days prior and sighed heavily.

"Ah, here we are," she said finally. "Mr H.J. Potter, second floor, room thirteen."

"Thirteen," Harry muttered. "Of course." 

"It's quiet on the second floor," she said, handing him the key to his room. "The ghosts are in the attic."

"Good to know." Though it was a Muggle establishment, that didn't rule out actual ghosts rather than figments of the innkeeper's imagination. "How long have you had ghosts at the inn?"

"Last couple months. It's been a real bother, scaring away the guests."

"You aren't afraid?" Harry asked, though he didn't imagine she was afraid of anything.

"I've got Stuart looking after me, don't I?" she replied. "He wasn't much use when he was alive but it seems being dead has improved his bedside manner."

"Was your husband a doctor, then?" 

"No," she replied and closed the guestbook with a loud thump then walked back the way she came. 

Harry furrowed his brow trying to make sense of the information he'd gathered so far when he noticed something. There was a scent in the air that he couldn't quite place—familiar and comforting. It reminded him of something. Or someone.

When he turned, he saw a man step into the lift. He must have come from the small dining area opposite the front desk. Harry could have sworn he recognised him by the way he carried himself, but before he got a proper look the doors had already closed. When the number climbed higher than "2" Harry decided to take the stairs. It might be a while.

Room thirteen was small and the only window looked out over the carpark in the rear of the building. It was a real shame as the countryside in the area was world renowned. 

Wondering about the man rather than the whole reason he was in town in the first place, Harry scrubbed his hands over his face then sat down at the small desk and went over his notes on the case. 

When he next looked up, it was dark and a look at his watch told him there wouldn't be a shop or restaurant open at this late hour. Not in a small village such as this one.

"Kreacher," he called softly and grinned when the house elf arrived, tray of sandwiches and two bottles of ale in hand. "You know me too well."

"Kreacher does, Master Harry," he replied and set the food down on the desk. "There is strange magic in this place," Kreacher added, pinning Harry with an odd look.

"Dark magic?" Harry asked. He knew house elves could sometimes sense thing wizards could not.

"Not dark, no. Master Harry is quite—ah—safe here," Kreacher said cryptically the moment Harry's mouth was full. He popped away before Harry finished chewing. While he could insist Kreacher return, he was actually too hungry to care. Puzzling Kreacher out would have to wait for another day.

Three sandwiches and a bottle and a half of beer later and Harry yawned, stripped down to his pants, climbed into bed, and fell asleep.

* 

_"Is this how you like it, Harry?" Severus said, running his hands up Harry's sides. Harry's wrists were tied to the headboard and he arched his back seeking Severus's touch._

_Severus took one of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger pulling it taut. A soft whimper escaped the plump, red lips and Severus felt his cock throb at the needy sound._

_Harry looked at him from beneath hooded lids, lust apparent, but something more lingered just behind those stunning green eyes._

_Moving between Harry's thighs, Severus took Harry's cock into his mouth and watched as Harry shattered beneath him._

__

~~*~*~~

_"Right there," Harry gasped pushing back against the absolutely_ divine _cock that was driving into his arse, hitting the perfect spot inside him. "Oh, fuck."_

_The hands on his hips gripped more tightly, strong fingers pressed against his hipbones. The thrusts came quicker, harder._

_Harry had never had a lover who made him feel so completely cherished, possessed. Owned. Next time they did this Harry wanted to face him, watch as the perfectly composed man fell apart before Harry's eyes._

_Reaching for his aching cock, Harry knew he couldn't last and came in three quick tugs._

_"Severus!" Harry cried out…_

*

And woke up, panting as if he'd run a mile. His body was dripping with sweat, his right hand coated in come.

"Bloody hell," he said, groaning as he pulled his hand from his pants. Reaching for his wand with his left hand, he cast a cleansing charm on himself.

It had been a while since he'd dreamt of Severus Snape and never so vividly. He clenched his arse cheeks, as if checking for lube and come though he knew he wouldn't find anything, more's the pity. If he hadn't known it was patently untrue, he would have believed he'd been very recently fucked. 

Sitting up in bed, Harry wondered whether the man he'd seen take the lift was Snape, if the scent he'd noticed had been of potions, or if, in fact, he really shouldn't have eaten three sandwiches just before bed. 

He got up to piss and then crawled back into bed, hoping he could get a few more hours of sleep. Uninterrupted by a certain well-hung Potions Master.

~*~

Warm and sated, Harry had no interest in waking. An entire day in bed sounded perfect.

"Master Harry must get up now," Kreacher said and pulled the blankets off Harry. He paused before he said, "Master Harry needs to bathe." 

"Hey," Harry said, eyes finally opening. He reached for the blankets to cover himself back up and cringed when he saw (and felt) the mess that he called his pants. Pushed partway down, they were stiff with drying come. A flash of memory flickered through his mind—riding Snape's cock, coming all over his chest and then licking it off. He felt his face go hot. "You're right, Kreacher. Thank you. I'll call you if I need anything else today."

"Very well." Kreacher bowed low. "Kreacher lives to serve Master Harry," he said then popped away.

"Yuck," Harry said as he stood. He gingerly pulled off the offending pants and pointed his wand at them, Vanishing them to his laundry at home. "I hope this place has hot water." Stepping into the frigid bathroom, Harry resigned himself to a lukewarm shower at best and was not disappointed. "Thank goodness for warming charms."

After showering and wanking—Christ, dream-Snape fucked like a demon—Harry dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt and one of the many Molly Weasley-made jumpers he owned, and then made his way down to breakfast.

"Full English, love?" The girl said when he sat down. Her eyes were wide when he looked up at her and replied, "Yes, please."

She swallowed visibly as she nodded and nearly tripped over her own feet as she disappeared into the kitchen. Harry shook his head. He was used to people fawning over him but it still made him uncomfortable even after all these years. 

She came back with a teapot, two teacups and saucers, milk and sugar and Harry was shocked she didn't spill it. "You don't mind sharing the table, do you?"

Knowing she couldn't possibly mean she'd be sitting with him made Harry reply politely. 

"Of course not." There were three other tables, all empty, but he supposed they wanted to encourage the social niceties as well as minimise the tidying up. Harry looked around and didn't see any other guests waiting at the entry either.

The girl must have known what he was thinking. "He'll be here in two minutes. Like clockwork, this one."

Harry laughed softly and she handed him a copy of the local newspaper, _Mould-on-the-Wold News_.

"'Dog lost, dog found'. Well, that's good anyway," Harry said to himself as he continued reading the village news.

"May I?" a deep voice asked and Harry's heart jumped into his throat. He slowly moved the newspaper from in front of his face and found himself looking at a man he knew quite well. Only not well at all.

Could it have already been twenty years since Snape walked away from the limelight his hero status had thrown on him? It hadn't surprised Harry though. Snape didn't seem one for celebrity. Once he'd received his Order of Merlin, First Class, he disappeared from the wizarding world for all intents and purposes though his potions expertise meant he occasionally was called in to the Ministry for his opinion.

Snape stood before him dressed in Muggle attire that fit him quite well. The years had been good to him. He had crow's feet at his eyes and streaks of white in his much shorter hair but he'd gained a stone since Harry has last seen him and it did him a world of good. 

Keeping calm in the face of such lascivious memories of his dreams from the night before was difficult. In fact, Harry's cock was remembering rather clearly what dream-Snape had done with him, _to_ him and was trying very hard to attract Snape's attention to Harry's lap. 

"My apologies, Auror Potter. I shall find another table." Snape's face expressed a combination of shock and horror mixed with a certain something Harry could only identify from having experienced it himself. He dare not name it though he'd seen plenty of evidence of it in his dreams last night.

"No, Snape, please," Harry said, standing and hoping that his burgeoning erection wasn't obvious. "Have a seat."

Snape looked torn but nodded once and sat down. Harry sat back down in his chair, folding the newspaper up and setting it to the side. He'd have to wait to find out whether they'd actually seen a UFO in Blimpton-on-the-Water.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Harry drank two cups of tea in the time it took for Snape to pour himself a single one, adding a precise splash of milk and slowly stirring exactly half a teaspoon of sugar into his cup.

"Whatever brings you to the village, Potter?" he said, finally, after he'd taken two sips of tea.

"Official government business, Snape," Harry said, snapping his mouth shut when the girl brought out two full English breakfasts. She scowled at Snape for a fleeting moment before giving Harry a much more pleasant smile.

"Thank you, Miss Seymour," Snape said. Harry gaped at him. 

"How do you know her name?" he blurted out as soon as she was out of earshot. 

Snape cut into a slice of tomato. "I asked," he said, smirking, then lifted his fork and began to eat his breakfast.

They were halfway through the meal when Snape said, "Does this government business have anything to do with unusual apparitions?"

Harry nearly dropped his fork. He recovered—he hoped—fairly quickly. "I can't tell you that though I may have to question you, officially, if you know anything about such things."

"It has been a rather long time since I was interrogated by an Auror, even longer since it was the Head Auror." Snape's snide tone made it clear he was not at all interested in repeating the experience.

Harry could see that Snape knew something and it was worth nearly any cost to find out what it might be. Though he wasn't fool enough to say so in so many words. Offering Snape "anything" would be reckless in the extreme.

Before he could respond, Miss Seymour seemed to appear out of thin air. "More tea?" she asked Harry, pointedly ignoring Snape.

"No, thank you," Snape replied and proceeded to return the favour and ignore her completely. 

A brief flash of irritation washed over her face, as if his refusal was a personal affront, but she turned to Harry again, holding the fresh pot. "For you?"

"Please," he said, more out of politeness than anything. She poured him a fresh cup and left the pot on the table. 

Snape's eyes followed her as she walked away. 

Was he checking out her arse? 

Not if Harry's dreams resembled reality in any way, shape or form but it was strange the way Snape was looking at her.

"If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave," Snape said bringing Harry back from his thoughts.

"Perhaps we can discuss the situation informally if you prefer." 

Snape pressed his napkin to his lips and set it down on the table before rising. "There is a pub, the Golden Heart. I shall be dining there this evening at eight should you wish to join me."

Harry nodded. "All right, I'll see you tonight then, Snape."

Without another word, Snape turned and strode away. Harry noted how even without his robes flaring he made quite a dramatic exit. 

"He's a very unpleasant man, isn't he?" Miss Seymour said under her breath as she cleared away the remains of Snape's breakfast.

"No, I don't believe he is actually," Harry said. She looked at him then, a flash of fierceness in her eyes and then she headed back to the kitchen without so much as a stumble.

Lost in thought, Harry finished his breakfast. As he headed for the exit, Harry took one last look at the table.

At the floor near Snape's chair was a length of black silk. Eyes widening, Harry reflexively rubbed his wrist, remembering what it had felt like against his skin in his dream. Looking surreptitiously around the room to make sure no one was watching, he picked it up and shoved it into his trouser pocket before heading back to his room.

~*~

The first person on Harry's list was an elderly witch, Isadora Whimple.

"Mrs Whimple?" he said when the door swung open on the little lilac-coloured cottage at the end of the street.

"Oh, Mr Potter!" she exclaimed as she opened the door, "You must call me Isadora. It's such an honour to meet a hero such as yourself." She took his hand in hers and he was careful not to grip too hard as she seemed to be made of skin and bones.

She was a good eighteen inches shorter than he was and he felt rather awkward looming over her like she was a child rather than his elder.

"The pleasure is mine," he said pleasantly, hoping to get this part of his job out of the way and get down to business. By the end of the day he was quite sure he'd need a stiff drink and not want to hear the word "hero" or "honour" again. "Is there somewhere we might sit?"

"Of course." She shut the front door, muttering, "Where are my manners?" under her breath. "I'll make us some tea. Come."

Walking—very slowly—behind her, they finally made it to the kitchen. She pulled out a chair for him and he pulled out his file and enlarged it while she boiled the water.

"Tell me about what happened, Mrs Whimple."

"Isadora," she replied and set a teacup down in front of him.

"Isadora, of course." He added a splash of milk as she watched. He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed surreptitiously. It never hurt to be careful. He smiled to himself imagining what Snape would say if this little old lady were to poison him. Deciding it was safe, he took a sip, then set the cup down and continued. "When did you begin seeing," he looked down at his notes, "the ghost of your husband?"

"Three weeks ago." She sat down in the chair across from him and began wringing her hands nervously. "He's been gone nearly twenty years now, never a peep from him before."

Harry hastily scribbled that down. "Have you seen anyone else?"

"No, only dear Alfie." She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

"Have you noticed any smells?" She shook her head. "Changes in the magical atmosphere?"

"Only the usual. Would you like a biscuit, Mr Potter? You look like you need a good meal." She started to stand but he reached out and indicated she should sit.

"No biscuits, thank you. The tea is lovely though." He looked back down at his notes and frowned, though the individual strands were beginning to come together in his mind. "Did you change any potions you were taking? Perhaps a Muggle remedy?"

"Muggle remedy indeed," she said, indignant. "I order a pain relieving potion for my arthritis. I've been using a mail order service. Very good quality but the prices are rather high for someone of limited means."

"May I see the potion?" Harry asked hoping they were making progress. 

" _Accio_ Stop Pain!" she called and a small phial flew into the kitchen and into her hand.

"Ingenious name," Harry said a bit sarcastically when she handed him the phial. "Does it work?"

"For the most part, yes. It's not as strong as the one I was using before though."

"Do you mind if I keep this?" He slipped the phial into his pocket when she shook her head. "Thank you for your help, Isadora. Please let me know if you continue to see your husband or if his visitations cease."

Harry pushed back his chair and stood and Mrs Whimple followed suit.

"Are you sure you aren't hungry? Let me make you a sandwich before you go. I insist."

Quite sure she _would_ insist, Harry acquiesced. "All right."

"I do hope you like marmite like my Alfie," she said clapping her hands together and turning away from him to reach for her bread box.

Gagging slightly, Harry was glad she couldn't see his face when he replied, "Love it."

~*~

Harry found the pub where he was meeting Snape easily as he'd traversed the town several times during the day interviewing Miss Georgina Wilson (who'd seen all seven of her dead cats roaming her backyard; she'd ingested far too many doses of a cheap laxative potion), Mr and Mrs Louis Bertrand (who'd lost a child five years ago and could hear her singing in her upstairs bedroom; ironically, a his and hers lubricating salve might have been to blame), and lastly, Mr Benjamin Berkeley (who's classroom at the local primary school was apparently overrun with deceased students; his anti-anxiety potion was suspect).

He could really do with a pint (or three), some conversation and, fingering the silk in his pocket, perhaps something more. 

Opening the door, the noise of the occupants was deafening though it was warm and smelled of lamb stew. He took off his cloak and approached the bar. He looked around to see if Snape was already there.

"Are you Potter?" the barman said. 

"Yes."

"Booth in the far corner."

Harry turned in that direction and walked toward Snape who was openly watching his every move.

"I never did ask you what you were doing in the village," Harry said as soon as he sat down. 

"Good evening to you, too, Potter," Snape said though it lacked the bite Harry normally associated with him. 

"What shall I get you?" Harry asked. 

"Stout," Snape replied. Harry walked to the bar and ordered Snape's stout and a pint for himself. He carried the two glasses back to the table and set Snape's down in front of him.

Harry took a drink of his ale and Snape snickered.

"What?" 

"Newcastle Brown Ale, is it? It shouldn't surprise me you'd like something sweet." 

"It's required when the company's so bitter," Harry parried without forethought. Why he'd dared to be so bold this early on, he wasn't sure, but fortunately Snape took it as he intended. 

"Touché," Snape replied, inclining his head. "Tell me what you've discovered from the inhabitants of the village."

"Just who is doing the investigating here?"

Snape took a drink of his stout and set it back down on the coaster. "I believe we both are."

"I don't understand."

"Someone is manufacturing potions and selling them as if they are from my company," Snape said, his long fingers trailing through the condensation on the glass. "They are of inferior quality or simply diluted and seem to have minor side-effects, one of which is mild hallucinations."

"Ah." Harry found himself quite annoyed with Snape. If he'd only told him this earlier he could have spent the day asking better questions. "Why didn't you tell me what you knew this morning?"

Snape's lips twitched. "I wanted your company for supper."

"What can I get you?" the waitress said, at the most inopportune time imaginable, in Harry's estimation. 

"Two fillets," Snape said. "Medium rare."

"You didn't need to order for me," Harry said, frowning after the waitress.

"By all means, call her back and order the battered cod, chips and mushy peas from the children's menu." Again, Harry could tell Snape was mildly scolding rather than viciously insulting.

"You're a real shit, Snape." Harry laughed when Snape lifted his glass and so he lifted his in reply. "Cheers. Now, tell me more about what you know."

"After supper, Potter. I'd like to relax and enjoy my meal."

Harry felt warm and surprisingly happy as they sat together, and they were on their second round by the time supper arrived.

"Oh, this is good," Harry said after he had a bite of his steak. 

"I told you it would be," Snape said, smug.

"You told me no such thing," Harry replied, waving his fork. "You ordered without discussion."

"I knew you would enjoy it." Snape looked away for a moment before he cut a bite of his own steak. 

Harry spent the rest of the meal watching Snape's every move. The way he cut his steak, the way he held his fork, the way he wiped his mouth. Everything was as he expected, as if they'd known each other forever.

"Do you ever get déjà vu, Snape?" he finally asked as they were finishing their meal.

"Not as such, no." He set his napkin down on the table. "More a sense of something oft wished to be true, but isn't."

"Like a dream?" Harry asked, feeling almost as if he'd taken Felix Felicis. This was the moment he'd been waiting for all night.

"A dream, Potter?" Snape's eyes darted toward him and narrowed. 

Legilimency wasn't required though because Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the length of silk, balling it into his hand. He slid his fist across the table and waited. Snape's eyes were on his as he held out his hand, palm up and Harry pressed the fabric into it. 

"You left it at breakfast," he said softly. "I was dreaming last night."

"A hallucination." Snape started to pull his hand back but Harry gripped it in his own. 

"No," Harry said firmly. "Something I'd wished for," he finished wistfully. While it was true his dreams had been filled with sex—to an absurd degree—it was the connection he felt with his dream lover that Harry wanted more than anything.

Harry let go of Snape's hand and finished the last sip of his beer. "The only question is if you want it, too."

Snape's face was unreadable and he said nothing. 

"Right," Harry said standing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out forty pounds. "That should cover mine as well as the drinks and tip. I'm in room thirteen."

"I know, Potter," Snape said, voice gruff. "I'm in the room next door."

Harry stood silently, trying to process this new information, as Snape got up and left more than enough money to cover the rest.

They shared a look then and Harry knew to his bones that Snape had had the very same dreams, wanted exactly the same thing. 

"Oh," fell softly from his lips, their eyes still locked. 

The corner of Snape's lips curled. "Oh?"

Harry couldn't help but grin then. "Let's go." Harry led them out of the pub and back to the hotel, his heart pounding in anticipation.

"Your room or mine?" he asked when they finally found themselves in the second floor corridor.

Snape stepped closer to Harry, who leaned his back against the wall. "I believe yours has a better headboard for what I have in mind," he said and pressed his lips to Harry's.

Harry parted his lips and reached for Snape's nape, pulling their bodies flush. Harry moaned when Snape rolled his hips forward, his erection hard against Harry's own.

He didn't want to stop; he wanted to drop to his knees and suck Snape off right there in the corridor. Instead he slid his hands between them and pushed against Snape's chest to break them apart.

"Let's finish this inside."

Snape looked like he planned to devour Harry whole but stepped back far enough Harry could reach into his pocket for the key. Snape then stood right behind him as he turned the key in the lock, his fingers brushing Harry's arse and Harry sucked in a breath, a frission of pleasure shooting up his spine.

Stumbling into the room, Harry shut the door behind them and pulled Snape to him again, wanting more of his intoxicating kisses. Pressed against the door, Harry moaned as Snape sucked at his neck, both hands gripping his arse and grinding their bodies together.

"Am I hallucinating now, Snape?" Harry asked panting. 

Snape took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm and then brought it down to his cock. "Does this feel real, Potter?"

Harry closed his fingers around the hot length. "Take your trousers off so I can get a better look."

Snape stepped back but instead of undoing his trousers he began undressing Harry. Harry held his arms up and Snape pulled his jumper off and pressed kisses to his lips and face as he began unbuttoning his shirt. Snape's fingertips brushed over his nipples, already peaked and tight with arousal.

He knelt down in front of Harry and helped him take off his boots then reached for his belt.

"May I?" he said, hand cupping Harry through the fabric.

"Please," Harry said both in answer to the obvious question and pleading for more. Snape mouthed his length through the fabric, his breath hot on Harry's cock, before he undid his belt and then the button and zip. Harry stepped out of his trousers when Snape got them to his ankles and he stood only in his socks and pants.

"I want to see you, Severus," he said though Snape seemed perfectly happy to nuzzle his cock through his pants. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this, Harry." Snape pulled Harry's pants down just enough to free his erection and immediately swallowed him down to the root.

"Oh, God," Harry gasped, hips thrusting forward of their own accord. He wanted to reach out and touch Snape. He rested a hand on his head, carding his fingers through his hair, and heard (and felt) Snape moan around his cock. "You like that?" 

"Mmhmm," Snape replied and taking that as permission, Harry placed both hands on Snape's head and pulled him closer, thrusting into his mouth. 

"You look so good on your knees, my cock in your mouth," Harry said, his own voice foreign to his ears and already knowing he couldn't last. Snape looked up at him, black eyes sparkling, and, with two fingers, applied pressure to his perineum. 

Gripping Snape's hair harder than he probably should have, Harry snapped his hips forward and came with a groan, spilling his come down Snape's throat. He fell back against the wall panting while Snape licked up every drop from the tip of his cock.

Slowly standing, Snape leaned in and kissed Harry again, his mouth now tasting of Harry's bitter seed. It was remarkable how much more appealing the flavour was coming from Snape's mouth.

"Get up on the bed," Snape said against his lips. "I want your arse."

"Going to fuck me now?" Harry asked, reaching for Snape's cock, hard against his hip.

"Not yet. I have other plans for you."

Harry kissed him again and then climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder and watched as Snape stripped out of his clothes though he left his shirt on which was undeniably sexy.

Snape slowly fisted his cock as he approached the bed then ran his hands up the outside of Harry's thighs to his arse, kneading the firm muscles. He then parted Harry's cheeks and licked up the crevice of his arse. 

Harry's throat made a sound he would normally have been ashamed of but instead of embarrassed, Harry pushed back seeking more and moaned when he felt Snape's tongue spear his entrance. He rocked his hips, thrusting into his fist, attempting to revive his recently spent cock, as Snape licked and probed his hole with his tongue. 

A finger pushed inside him, loosening him more fully. When the second joined it, Harry winced slightly at the burn. 

"Severus?"

Snape stopped moving his fingers immediately but didn't remove them.

"I'll need lube. It's been a while." Harry was glad he wasn't looking at Snape then because his face was burning. The myriad reasons and excuses he might offer flitted through his mind and he sighed in relief when Snape didn't ask him any questions. He just pressed the tip of his wand to Harry's arse, stretching and lubing him instantly. "Thanks."

Snape pressed what could only be called a tender kiss to Harry's arsecheek before he slid his fingers back and forth a few times, then pulled them out. 

"Put your hands on the headboard," Snape said huskily and Harry reached out and gripped the wooden frame, bracing himself as Snape lined his cock up with Harry's hole. Harry held his breath as Snape pushed the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscle.

Slowly, Snape pressed forward and pulled back, inching his way inside, until Harry just pushed back against him, pulling him deep.

"Fuck," Snape said and Harry would have laughed only because it seemed so out of character for the man Harry once knew, but then Harry'd never been fucked by a former professor before. Regardless, Harry forgot all about it when Snape set a rhythm of long, sure strokes, his cock just brushing Harry's prostate.

Harry could hear Snape's exhalations as he thrust as if he was trying to keep as quiet as possible. Harry didn't think about why or what it might mean, he just let his senses take over, enjoy every moment. There was a subtle change in the grip on his hips and Harry knew Snape was getting close. His cock was fully hard again and he let go of the headboard with one hand so he could touch himself. 

"Don't," Snape said, his voice hoarse with lust. 

"Mmm, 'k," Harry managed to get out before Snape starting fucking him hard. Harry canted his hips back, pulling Snape deeper still, then felt Snape's cock throb and Snape filled him in several pulses. Harry bit the inside of his lip, he wanted to come again. Now. Desperately. 

Snape's cock slipped from his arse and Harry felt the loss keenly. Then Snape's hand was around his cock and he pushed two fingers back inside of Harry's arsehole and Harry didn't care what kind of undignified sound he made. Snape's fingers sliding though his own come in Harry's arse was the hottest, filthiest, most erotic thing he could imagine Snape doing and he absolutely whined as he came in Snape's fist. His knees gave out and he collapsed against the bed, finally letting go of the headboard as Snape's hand milked the last drops out of him.

"My God," Harry said, faced pressed to the pillow, body shaking. Snape slid up next to him and started licking the fingers of his left hand—the one that had made Harry come—one at a time. Harry's cock didn't even have the energy to give a feeble twitch but Harry looked at Snape and opened his mouth.

Snape's eyes widened but his lips curled into his version of a smile and he then slid two fingers between Harry's lips, feeding him what was left of his come. 

Harry felt his eyes getting heavy and could barely keep them open. 

"Sleep," he heard Snape say.

"Stay," Harry replied, and promptly fell asleep.

*

_Severus reached behind his knees and pulled his legs back to give Harry better access._

_"Fuck, Severus." Harry pushed the head of his cock into Severus's hole. "You're so tight."_

_Not wanting to reveal just how long it had been since he'd let anyone get this close to him, both literally and figuratively, Severus said, "Are you planning to talk all night?"_

_Harry's eyes gleamed and he thrust all the way in. "Better?"_

_The feeling of fullness was incredible and nearly took Severus's breath away. He took a moment to adjust then said, "Now move."_

_Leaning down, Harry kissed him._

__

~~*~*~~

_Harry drew his fingers down Severus's back, counting each scar._

_"Have you tried healing them?" he asked. "Spell? Potion?"_

_Severus shook his head. "It was dark magic, many years ago."_

_"Is that why you left your shirt on?" Harry moved his hands away from the scars and down over Severus's arse, lingering at the juncture with his thigh._

_"I don't want you to see them. I'm ashamed."_

_Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to Severus's nose. "You'd never tell me that in the cold light of day."_

_Severus pulled Harry close. "That's how you can tell this is a dream…."_

*

Harry's eyes blinked open and he stared up at the dark ceiling. He realised Snape was no longer in the bed with him and felt far more hurt by that than he would have liked to admit. They were two grown men, they didn't need to play games but he should have realised nothing would be easy with Snape.

Climbing out of bed, he headed to the cold bathroom, took a piss and splashed a little water on his face. He'd hoped to have this mystery solved by now—in an afternoon, Ron said—and instead it was complicated by the information Snape had given him as well as the fact that there was something between them even if he didn't know what exactly it was.

Sitting down at the desk, Harry began poring over his notes, recognising the pattern of potion use and comparing the information he'd collected with what Snape had told him. Perhaps there was a clue he'd missed before he had the full story. Like who the mysterious potion maker might be.

First thing in the morning, Harry planned to head out and get the case solved if possible. It would be far easier than solving the mystery that was Severus Snape, he was sure.

~*~

"Miss Seymour," Harry said as he entered the dining area, looking for Snape.

"He's already gone," she said in a less than stellar humour, setting a teapot down on the table in front of him. "Said he had business to attend to this morning. Full English again?"

"No, no," Harry said absentmindedly as he sat down, wondering just what this meant. "Just tea and toast." He poured himself a cup of tea and added a splash of milk. 

"A man like you needs a bit more than toast," she said after he'd taken a sip. Harry snapped his head up to look at her, slightly horrified. Was she flirting with him?

Standing again, he started walking backward out of the room. "On second thought, I'll get something while I'm out."

Harry went back upstairs to get his cloak. He opened the door to his room and found a slip of paper on the floor.

>   
>  The Whispering Wizards, 10 o'clock  
> 

He knew the handwriting was Snape's but he had no idea what it meant. He gathered up his notes and supplies, shrinking everything to fit in his pockets, then headed back downstairs and stopped at the front desk.

"Excuse me," he called out and after ringing the bell twice the woman finally appeared.

"Leaving already?" she asked Harry. 

Harry blinked. He actually had only booked the two nights. "Is the room available again tonight?"

"Don't get many visitors," the woman replied and pulled out the reservation book. "Not with the ghosts in the attic."

"No, I suppose not." Fingering the piece of paper in his pocket, Harry waited until she'd written his name down before asking, "Ever heard of the Whispering Wizards?"

"You can find them near the Rolling Rocks. Bit like Stonehenge the tour guides say, only they are much smaller," she said. "Take the main road out of town, about five miles. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Harry replied and walked out onto the street. It was grey and drizzling. "Just another beautiful day in the English countryside," he said to himself laughing. 

First something to eat, then he'd meet Snape.

~*~

Harry Apparated to the edge of the wood and saw three tall stones huddled together conspiratorially.

"The Whispering Wizards," he said under his breath. He felt like he should try not to disturb them which was ridiculous of course. They were just stones. 

But they seemed to be talking. He could hear their voices. They sounded so familiar.

Harry rubbed his eyes and blinked. He could see them so clearly now. 

Sirius. 

Dumbledore. 

Snape.

Snape wasn't dead! Harry'd seen him, heard him, felt him in his arms. Harry lunged forward, trying to get closer to the three men when he felt hands on his arms, holding him back.

"Snape!" he shouted toward the figures.

"Do you trust me?" 

Harry turned his head and found that it was Snape, in the flesh, who kept him from running forward. Harry nodded and Snape Apparated them both. They landed not far from where they started but Harry felt much better already. 

"What was that?" He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Is this why people are seeing apparitions? I haven't taken a tainted potion, have I? God, I thought you were dead, too," he finished, feeling exhausted as if he'd run a mile and elated that Snape was still really there. Alive.

Snape wrapped his arms around Harry, rubbing up and down his back comfortingly, and they stood together, the rustling of the leaves the only sound save Harry's panting. 

"All right, I feel better. Now tell me what's going on."

"Industrial waste of a magical variety," Snape said. "The potioneer is dumping here and it gets in the water. It's diluted but still causes some hallucinations."

"And only the people who've also taken the potions as well have strong reactions," Harry guessed which Snape confirmed with a nod.

"Fortunately, I have also traced the potions back to the manufacturer." 

"Let me guess," Harry said, "someone with a grudge against you from your role in the war?"

"As likely as that seems, apparently not. Actually my role in this farce seems to be accidental." Snape gave Harry a once over. "In fact, the person was hoping to attract the attention of the famous Harry Potter. By bringing him to town to investigate a series of strange happenings, she hoped to lure him to her bed. Alas, she hadn't counted on the fact that I would be pursuing the problem with my potions at the very same time."

"You're joking." Harry couldn't believe anyone would go to so much trouble for his questionable charms but fame did funny things to people. The number of stalkers he'd had over the years filled a drawer in the Auror file room let alone the harmless anonymous birthday greetings and requests for autographs. 

At Snape's significant look, Harry sucked in a breath.

"No," Harry said, astonished. "It can't be."

"Of course it can. Why do you think we were having such erotic dreams?" Snape flushed slightly and Harry found it absolutely charming to see Snape revealing even that much emotion. "There was something in the air on that floor. It is most convenient that I arranged to be in the room next door once I saw your name on the guest list." Snape fingered his wand and Harry knew he'd perhaps used a bit of magic to influence the room assignments.

"She wanted me to dream of her?" Harry said, stepping closer and when Snape didn't pull away he rested his hands on Snape's hips. "And then I suppose she hoped I'd fall madly in love with her."

"That seems likely, yes."

"It never would have worked." Harry moved a hand to Snape's cheek. "Though it took me some time to discover it, I prefer a much more masculine partner."

Snape seemed hesitant, almost as if he didn't want—no, _couldn't_ believe what he was hearing. "Are you sure that's not just the influence of the potion fumes, Potter?"

"I had dreams like that of you before. Sharing them with you was the only difference." 

Snape raised an eyebrow though he looked pleased. "You have a very vivid imagination."

"As do you." Harry reached for his nape, threading his fingers the short hairs there. Harry gasped when Snape pulled him closer, brushing their erections together through their trousers. "Though I don't have much of an interest in public sex, if it's all the same to you."

Snape snorted, then laughed aloud, shocking Harry with the joyful sound. "I can't say that is one of my preferences, no."

"Work before pleasure then." Harry pressed one last kiss to Snape's mouth. "I'll call the rest of the Auror team handling the case—most of which was solved by you. Have you ever considered becoming an Auror?"

With a withering look, Snape replied, "Is that what your department has come to these days? Looking for new recruits from the other side of the tracks?"

Harry laughed at that. "No, but we are looking for the best."

"Which is why you are Head Auror, Potter." 

Struck nearly speechless at the compliment—which Harry assumed it was—Harry leaned forward and kissed Severus again.

"Right," Harry said when they broke the kiss, eventually. "Now we'll square this case away, then go back to your room and fuck like rabbits."

"So eloquent." Snape ran his finger down Harry's cheek, his thumb trailing along his jaw in a gentle caress.

"Are you objecting?" Harry asked, taking Snape's hand.

"Not at all."

~*~

The proprietress of the inn looked crestfallen and Harry did feel somewhat guilty for getting Miss Charlotte Seymour, Ravenclaw, over twenty years behind Harry at Hogwarts, arrested. They told her it was a drug-related charge, which it was, after a fashion.

Seymour's room was rather like a shrine to Harry. Newspaper and magazine clippings filled several large scrapbooks. He even found a brand new bottle of the same brand of shampoo he'd brought with him. Knowing she'd snooped in his room made his stomach clench.

Harry also wasn't sure what Snape's reaction would be to such an obvious display. He'd always given him grief about being an attention seeker but that was a long time ago and things were different between them now. Harry hoped so anyway. 

"Young people today," she said sadly, shaking her head. 

"Perhaps there is another young lady in the village looking for employment," he said patting her on the hand. 

"Rather look at a fit bloke with an nice arse, if it's all the same to you," she said and Harry nearly choked.

"Yes, well, there is likely one of those to be found, I'm sure of it." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of his Muggle business cards which suggested he was a private investigator. "If you have any more trouble with ghosts, ring me, all right?"

"Certainly, Mr Potter." She took the card and put it in a drawer. He could see it was full of business cards, likely from every guest who'd ever stayed at the inn from the look of it. He sighed. He wouldn't need to worry about a call from her anyway. The ghost problem should be solved. "Did you still need the room for the night?"

Harry hadn't actually thought that far ahead and wasn't quite sure what to say. "I—"

"That will not be necessary," Snape said over him as he stepped up behind Harry and pressed a hand to the small of his back. "You may charge my room double occupancy for the night."

"I see I'm not the only one who would rather have a fit bloke," she muttered and scratched through Harry's name in her appointment book and added a "+1" to Snape's room. 

"Shall we, Mr Potter?" Snape said, eyes glittering.

*

Relaxed and happier than he'd been in years, Harry slept, his arm over Snape's bare chest, and this night did not dream.


End file.
